Chronicles of the Sereitei Philharmonic
by annyenil
Summary: “Instrument? Instruments of torture?” “No, musical instruments.” The strongest shinigami in Sereitei were about to face their greatest challenge yet……
1. Prelude to the Afternoon of a Shinigami

**Author's Note: **I wonder why I haven't thought of this earlier. Should have done it long, long, long ago. Please enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

**Chronicles of the Sereitei Philharmonic**

By annyenil

"Everyone, please take a seat." Ise Nanao lifted her spectacles nervously and watched as shinigami filed into the room one by one and sat down, some chattering away, while others simply carried a "don't call me I don't care" look on their faces. She bowed to her Taichou, who then sat down and called the meeting into order.

"Friends, Shinigami, Countrymen-and women, lend Nanao your ears, please." Kyouraku Shunsui gestured to the room as his audience gradually soften down, some dozing off into deep slumber, others displaying more interest in their nails than they had ever. Nanao stood up and took a bow, 'H-hai. Good morning everybody. Today, this Gotei Thirteen meeting has been called for, as we all know, the funds set appropriated for this year's Division Events have been drained due to the many trips and teams sent out to the real world, as such, we have to fundraise."

A collective groan swept through the room as the shinigami each buried their bored faces in their sweaty palms: blame the stuffy spring rainy days. Not only has that, but the Gotei Thirteen Fundraisers have always been known to be flops. The purpose of the fundraiser is actually more to showcase the talents of the taichous, fukutaichous and selected officers more than anything else. And the shinigami present were all very clear-minded self-effacing people who claimed, and it has been proven, that they have no distinct talent other than swinging swords and shooting spells.

"Why are we still doing that?" Abarai Renji raised his hand, raising his complicatedly entailed eyebrows, "Remember last year's bake sale?"

A collective shudder swept across the room. Yeah, last year's bake sale had proven that the Gotei Thirteen Officers are definitely not meant to be bakers. Actually, it hadn't started too horribly. The flour, the sugar, the eggs, they went in and mixed pretty nicely. It was until Yamada Hanatarou added in the baking powder and put the mixture in the oven, then it became lethal. Very _explosive_. It had taken over months to fix up the shattered kitchen of the Eighth Division and Shunsui had conveniently disturbed Ukitake Jyuushirou for dinner for those few months. Jyuushirou's cough had worsened very much so ever since. Retsu Unohana later discovered that the said culprit had bought baking _soda_ instead of baking powder.

"But we did earn quite some money last year." Matsumoto Rangiku voiced, spilling her lucrative assets over the expensive pine wood desk.

"That was because……" All eyes in the room turned to glance at Zaraki Kenpachi, whose contributions were much appreciated. If not for him, none of the distorted lumps of rock-hard dough would have been sold. His tinkling bells made Sereitei Cookie the most popular (rather, most feared) product of the year. Just the sight of the bulky taichou and his devilish fukutaichou were enough to make any ordinary shinigami purchase at least a hundred of the deadly concoction, two hundred if Kenpachi dropped in a menacing eye. (And five hundred if he raised his arm.)

"But, Nanao-san, for as long as I could remember," Jyuushirou chuckled to himself and coughed a little, "These fundraisers had only shown that we taichous and fukutaichous cannot sing, dance, bake, cook, write poetry, write novels, pole-dance, sell things and hold funfairs."

"Oh, the funfair." Hinamori Momo giggled, and a round of suppressed chuckles went around the room, excepting an extremely annoyed Hitsugaya Toushirou. "Ukitake, can we please not bring the funfair into the picture." The funfair had been held a few years back, and Rangiku had brought back an absolutely adorable costume from the real world. It had long, pink and flurry bunny ears, a big, cuddly dummy and large, clown paws. The problem was, she had never been one to check sizes when buying garments for others. And so, the only person in the Gotei who could fit into the costume was……Toushirou. (Though many suspected deliberation on Matsumoto's side) Even till today, many children in Sereitei still refer to Hitsugaya Toushirou as the Bunny Taichou. The memory of it alone was excruciating enough, Toushirou thought as he wiped off the perspiration from his forehead.

"Ahem." Nanao cleared her throat, "This year, we have a fool-proof plan."

The room fell silent, now interested in what Nanao had to suggest. After all, it was hard to imagine what could take place that was not either a complete calamity or a year-long laughing stock. Nanao pushed up her spectacles, allowing for a moment of dramatic pause.

"As we all know, the Shihouin clan had long been collectors of shinigami artifacts and weaponry. However, recently, Yoruichi Shihouin-sama had unearthed a family collection of real world instruments imported from the West and had donated the entire collection to us for the purpose of this funraiser."

"Instrument? Instruments of _torture_?" Kurotsuchi Mayuri suddenly sat up from his originally slouched position, his voice containing a strand of excitement. Nemu couldn't help but shrink a little in her seat.

"No, Mayuri taichou. _Musical_ instruments." Nanao glanced around the room with a slightly satisfied smirk faintly passing over her lips. "For this year's fundraiser, we will be forming an orchestra!"

"ORCHESTRA?" Everybody's eyes opened wide.

"You must be kidding, Nanao-san. Most of us are tone-deaf!" Matsumoto Rangiku raised her hand indolently, "Have you ever heard Hisagi-san and Izuru-san sing when they are drunk?" She drawled and eyed the men next to her. Hisagi Shuuhei and Izuru Kira both shot her indignant glares. A murmur was growing in the room, and it became louder and louder, till the meeting was submerged in a chaos of boisterous discussion.

"What is an orchestra anyway?" Renji asked Hinamori, who rolled her eyes and replied, "Have you forgotten the Modern Studies we took? An orchestra is a bunch of people playing music together!" Toushirou raised an eyebrow at the un-academic and lackluster explanation but decided to keep his mouth shut. In his mind, he pictured his friend playing music, and had to fight hard to keep the smile from surfacing his stern expression. It was simply hilarious: Hinamori Momo, the woman who couldn't carry a tune. He had strolled past her bathroom while she was bathing before and had thought that she had brought in a croaking chicken with her.

Jyuushirou and Shunsui were, on the other hand, completely unfazed. "I wonder what sort of music we would have to play." Jyuushirou mused to himself. "Oh, I suppose the kind that I used to put on when I was with that girl, the one with the flaxen hair." "Sui, you were never _with_ her. She tried to break the record _and_ the gramophone." "Don't be so unromantic, Jyuu." Shunsui winked at his friend, much to the horror and jealousy of Sentarou and Kiyone.

"_Ahem_." Nanao cleared her throat so hard that she nearly choked on herself and had to pause for a moment. The shinigami gradually settled down and the din condensed for a moment. "Everyone, your instruments had been selected and delivered to your Division, along with instructional videos, scores and books. Please do practice hard and make good use of our halcyon days." She glanced around the room authoritatively, "And please, we will meet in two weeks' time, same time, same place, for our first rehearsal." She bowed and the Gotei stood up, filing out of the room one by one, once resuming their interrupted discussion. This was going to be intriguing.

Whispers had gone round: the strongest shinigamis in Sereitei were about to face their greatest challenge yet……Soul Society looked on with bated breath at the birth and formation of the Sereitei Philharmonic!

* * *

Please Read and Review! This is my most recent Eureka!-combining the two things I love most in life. Some of it are allusions to Classical pieces, if you are interested, do check out the music as well!


	2. Allemande of Anachronism

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach

**Chronicles of the Sereitei Philharmonic **

By annyenil

Matsumoto Rangiku had reached her Division Office long before her taichou, something that happened very often whenever the two departed from the same place. She often attributed this phenomenon to the fact that her legs were more than twice the length of her taichou's. She sniggered to herself and walked into the Division Office. Sure enough, the messenger from the Shihouin Clan had dispatched the instrument and had been awaiting her arrival. "Matsumoto fukutaichou-sama, this is your designated instrument, and this is Hitsugaya taichou-sama's." Rangiku nodded her thanks with a flamboyant wave and the messenger bowed, leaving her behind to explore the new toys before her.

She picked up her assigned instrument, the video, scores and books, and was about to return to the office couch for a nap first when she noticed her taichou's larger, heavier case. Rangiku couldn't resist but burst out laughing. Whoever that had assigned the instruments sure had a wonderful sense of humour. She grinned and moved all the equipment and materials into the Office and waited for her taichou to return. "This was going to be fun!" she smiled to herself elfishly.

* * *

Soifon picked up the instrument she had been assigned. "Is this what Yoruichi-sama deemed suitable for me?" She wondered out loud to herself. "If that is the case, then I shall oblige to learn all I can with this……thing." She couldn't help but frown at it. The Shihouin messenger had returned groaning over a large butterfly on his face. The instrument had appeared absurdly obscene. "This must be some sort of joke, isn't it, Yoruichi-sama?" Soifon was greatly disturbed as she held the golden metal between her fingers. The keys were way too large for her, and the shape of it, goodness gracious, was like a kitchen utensil. So this was how much she meant to Yoruichi-sama……

Soifon sighed and picked up the "funnel", holding it to her mean lips and blew. She blew as hard as she could, but not a single sound escaped. So this thing wanted to be difficult. Very well than. She threw the heavy metallic piece of junk against the wall, waiting for it to shatter. But of course, it obviously didn't at all. "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?" A rush of flame and reiatsu burst out in the Second Division Taichou's room as she drew on Suzumebachi and stabbed feverishly at the trumpet. It did not budge at all. Panting, Soifon withdrew her aching finger and concealed her reiatsu once more. A hundred Secret Mobile Corps had appeared in her room, spreading all over her desk and couch. She glared at them through their black masks.

"Get lost, you idiots." She spat at them. They disappeared in an instant.

* * *

Hitsugaya Toushirou returned from the meeting to find his instrument in his office and his fukutaichou lazing on the couch. He used to kvetch about Matsumoto's indolence, but soon learn that words alone were insufficient to move her, so he simply ignored her. Despite keeping a straight face, he was actually rather inquisitive as to what instrument was awaiting his genius conquer.

Rangiku had sensed her taichou's presence and was now sitting up, pretending to practice with her instrument while peeking at her taichou from the corner through her long eyelash. _Yes! He was opening, fumbling over that gigantic thing……He's opening the zipper now, any moment could be……he's going to-_

"WHAT KIND OF JOKE IS THIS?" Hitsugaya Toushirou shouted and cursed in an undertone at the instrument he had unearthed. What was this huge……thing before him? He could feel perspiration trickling down the back of his uniform as he fought to pick up the enormous lump of wood. Glancing at the manual, he heard Matsumoto's snicker. "Matsumoto, get out and practice in your own room." Obediently, the strangely appeasing Rangiku quickly gathered her things and crept out of the room. The moment she closed the door behind her, she began howling with laughter till tears had gathered in her eyes. That was pure classic! Her taichou was half the height of that thing……she simply had to go tell Renji and the others.

Toushirou glared at the door closed behind his fukutaichou and swore some more. What kind of sick joke was this? He tried to recall his Modern Studies classes. "I don't remember violins being this……big." He put on the video and sighed. _Double Bass for Dummies_. At least he wouldn't have to wedge the instrument upon his thin neck and tiny shoulders. Toushirou couldn't help but think that his double bass would make a suitable violin for his friend Jidanbou, but quickly shook that thought out of his head. "Business first. Nothing can beat me. I am after all, the Tenth Division taichou, Hitsugaya Toushirou." He towed his jaw with his hand and fell deeply in thought. There is a way……

* * *

"Taichou! Are you all right?" Omaeda Marechiyo burst into his taichou's room upon prompts from the house servants that there were "boisterous, frightening insects swarming in Soifon taichou's room." He too, had heard a most terrifying noise from her room as he approached, very much resembling that of a very large, very nasal bee, fluttering and attacking his taichou. He took a stance and broke through her door. A fierce, cold look pierced through him as Soifon looked up from her _Trumpet for Dummies_. Omaeda grinned sheepishly, holding up his instrument. "Look, I have a trumpet too." He blew into the instrument, and a large gust of wind accompanied by crumbs of fried rice crackers hit Soifon in the face, with bits of crumbs sticking to her hair with some salivation.

"Uh-oh." Omaeda began backing out of the room, at first slowly, and then breaking into a quick flee as the stinging bee began chasing after him. "Ouch!" He cried out as a large butterfly appeared across his huge pot belly. "Taichou……there is no need to be so harsh."

Soifon walked back her room storming fortissimo and grasped the trumpet in her hand, wondering just why Yoruichi-sama was so cruel to her. She sighed and picked up the instrument as a flock of sad black crows trailed into the torpor of the forest outside her window. The flight of a wailing bumblebee sent the Second Division into insanity as their taichou puffed out her cheeks and sobbed over her Yoruichi-sama into the poor little trumpet.

* * *

"Eh? Taichou?" Rangiku peeked into her taichou's office after a few hours after roaring with laughter at the Ninth Division Office, she found a very calm and stately Hitsugaya Toushirou standing tall, playing elegant bellows on the double bass like as though it was effortless. "How did you do that, taichou?" she asked, entering the office, biting lightly on her instrument with curious eyes. Was it her, or had her taichou gotten taller over an afternoon. She approached her taichou, and saw that he wasn't standing on anything. "This is very peculiar," she thought.

"Don't come near me, Matsumoto!" Toushirou suddenly looked up as Rangiku closed in on him, his eyes full of panic and alarm. But it was too late. With Matsumoto's breasts fully smacking him in the face, he lost his balance and crashed to the floor, his body cushioning the precious instrument. "Taichou!" Rangiku cried out in dismay, before something caught her eyes.

"Taichou, are you wearing……my high heels?"


	3. Courante of Comedies

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach

**Chronicles of the Sereitei Philharmonic**

By annyenil

Ukitake Jyuushirou sighed inwardly as he sat at his desk, waiting for the day's paperwork to arrive for his inspection. He had been drowning in inundating quarrels for the past few hours and it was starting to get tiresome. But of course, Ukitake taichou never ever raised his voice, but this fracas in the Division Office was nearly tearing the building down. He sighed, and resumed reading the scroll before him, completely ignoring the boisterous arguments swarming about him like a particularly irritating looping scherzo. "That was one sick joke, Yoruichi-san." Ukitake thought to himself as his two Third-Seat Officers continued their perpetual argument sparked by the arrival of their instruments.

It was indeed one sick joke to assign Kiyone and Sentarou the same instrument and leave them scores for two different parts. It was always known that The First Violins are better than the Second Violins, but the Second Violins were an absolute necessity for an orchestra to be complete. That was exactly what Jyuushirou had been reiterating for quite awhile, but in such a frenzied moment, neither of his subordinates could give even a care. Kiyone simply had to get her hands on the First Violin scores, while Sentarou wasn't willing to give in so easily either as the two raced around the Thirteenth Division, each hoping to grasp their coup. Jyuushirou sighed again; _somebody_ certainly had a twisted sense of humour……

* * *

"Eh, Rukia? Your instrument is so pretty, it looks like Sode No Shirayuri!" An excited Abarai Renji slapped Kuchiki Rukia hard on the back as she opened her casing, picking up the brilliantly glowing silver, her eyes widening in pleasure. She tried to hide her ebullience as she assembled the beautiful silver flute and blew into it. Renji held his breath as he watched Rukia intensely. Surely a beautiful sound as beautiful as Rukia would be elicited from the instrument. Rukia held her head high and lofty. And she blew-

And all that escaped was a large blurt of saliva that landed on the front of Renji's chest where no fabric covered it. Renji glanced down at his heavily tattooed chest with a stricken expression on his face. That was one gauche moment as the two's eyes met and neither knew what to say. Rukia's eyes widened to occupy more than half her face as she quickly used her haori sleeve to wipe away the visually-caustic pile of drool. Renji glanced down at Rukia's bobbing head, dabbing away at he chest so earnestly, and couldn't help but feel something swell up inside him. _This is bad, extremely bad._ He gently pushed Rukia away and complained as though nothing had happened, "I haven't opened my instrument. Wonder what it is, wanna see it?" He coughed awkwardly and escaped to the safety of the other side of the Office.

Renji's face fell when the case was opened. The golden, pompous-shaped instrument before him was neither elegant, nor aristocratic, nor even remotely attractive. Rukia couldn't help but cover her mouth and tried suppress her laughter. Very soon, they were both rolling on the floor grabbing their stomach and gasping for air, with tears streaming down their cheeks. "This……is……hilarious!" Rukia managed to utter a few words. Indeed, the shape of the instrument before them had an absurdly obscene shape in their eyes. It was pure gold, with a large swirl that wantonly burgeons outwards in an almost perverse manner. Renji picked up the manual, and grinned, "Look, Rukia, I get to put my hand in the hole!" He promptly held up the French horn and did as instructed, blowing as hard as he could into the mouthpiece. "BOOOOO!"

"Goodness, Renji! You are going to disturb Nii-sama!"

"Already done." Renji and Rukia jumped as Kuchiki Byakuya entered the room with a much regal air. Quietly and slyly, Renji tried to smear the saliva on his hand onto his haori, and grinned at his taichou sheepishly, "So……taichou, what is your instrument?"

Byakuya raised an eyebrow, weighing quickly in his head whether to be approachable that day. He remembered relenting to Renji's lack of progress a few days ago……

* * *

In the Thirteenth Division, dinner was being served, but there were two empty seats next to Jyuushirou. "How lonely……" He spoke with much retirement as he exasperatedly requested his other officers to fetch his two very much caught up Violinists. Alas, Jyuushirou had no other option but to fetch his own instrument. He let his throat hang dry, inducing a horrible rush of coughing fits. And at that moment, he coerced himself into coughing right into the nicely-shaped, handy saxophone.

The entire Thirteenth Division. No, the entire Sereitei stopped in their tracks and wondered what that terribly ear-piercing noise could have been. Was the Espada breaking in? Was the Hueco Mondo opening up in the sky? Many cringed in fear and covered their ears at that frightening cacophony. Jyuushirou chuckled in content as he put his instrument away while watching his two Third Seat Officers docilely sat down next to him, bowing in the most appeasing manner. "So-sorry we are late, tai-taichou." They both muttered in unison, with flaming cheeks, bowing deeply. Jyuushirou waved his arms in his usual manner, secretly hoping that nobody else in Sereitei guessed that noise had been him. He patted the saxophone underneath the table. "Good boy, good boy……"

"I think we went too far……" Sentarou leaned in towards Kiyone and they both glanced worriedly at their taichou.

"Taichou is talking to himself……" Kiyone whispered as they both stared, neither daring to mention the fact that their taichou was not only speaking with himself, but also at the same time feeling himself under the table.

Both Sentarou and Kiyone remained quite well-behaved and amenable for some time after.

* * *

Seeing that his beloved sister Rukia was present, Byakuya decided that Renji would just be a very lucky man that day. With a great flourish, he spun around to face the two, showcasing his deep black, shiny, elongated instrument. The Kuchiki siblings watched in wonder as Renji's face distorted beyond its original distortion in an attempt to suppress his laughter.

"What is so funny, Renji?" Rukia demanded hotly.

"It's……" Renji grasped his mouth to prevent laughter from spilling out too incongruously before his taichou, "a long, black..." His eyes shifted to the lower portion of his taichou's hakama.

"RENJI!" Rukia exploded, her face blushing in the most conspicuous shade at the reference of the clarinet as her respected brother's _zanpakutou_. "HOW COULD YOU?" She flung herself at Renji with fists ready to pummel, but was shoved to the side by another strong hand.

Byakuya was glowing pink, in the most dangerous manner.

"Chire, Senbonzakura!"


	4. Sarabande of Sovereignty

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach

**Chronicles of the Sereitei Philharmonic**

By annyenil

"Nanao-chan, Nanao-chan, Nanao-chan, Nanao-chan!" Kyoraku Shunsui hummed to himself quite cheerfully as he strolled back to his Division Office in the most leisurely manner. Musical instruments were a great accessory, and all the women loved it. He thought wickedly to himself how the female shinigami were going to bask him in their crowning cynosure, cooing over his strong muscles and besieging him for autographs and embraces as he regally held up his violin, or trumpet, or even the conductor's baton. It would be nothing but delightful. And Nanao, Nanao will for sure be head over heels, falling for him without any hesitation as he heroically save her from that difficile instrument she was going to face.

There was nothing more esoteric than Shunsui's wanton, colourful imagination, just as there was no trickster more artful than Shihouin Yoruichi. The Shihouin messengers were already standing tall and respectful when Shunsui frolicked into his Division, with Nanao nervously trailing behind, her hands lifting her spectacles every other step. They were led to their Office, where two large instruments covered by the most luscious and smooth red velvet with golden frills at the edge. Shunsui was wild with joy from the images of beautiful, bountiful women who couldn't wait to ingratiate with him.

With a flourish, four Shihouin messengers lifted the covers of the instruments. Nanao's eyes widened in pleasant surprise at her instrument, while Shunsui' jaw dropped in nothing but terror.He couldn't possibly be caught playing……_that?_

* * *

It was with similar sentiments to Shunsui that Tetsuzaemon Iba lifted his instrument into his rough, battle-scarred, callous palms. He glanced at his taichou, who was holding the same instrument with his palm. Yeah…..this could be a problem. His taichou was understandable as human as a canine could get, but the whole fully opposable thumb thing still wasn't very characteristic of the canine paw. Very soon, that tiny strand of silver that was the flute was embedded deep within Sajin Komamura's thick layers of shiny fur.

Iba quickly looked down at his own hands and refused to glance at Komamura anymore than he could help it, except through corners of his eyes. He had his own problem. There was no way he could be caught playing the flute, the _flute_ in public. He was a man, a true man of the most capable kind. His Elevnth Division friends would laugh their heads off at him if they had known he was performing with such a lady-like instrument in public. No, no, no. No way. Worst of all, he would be seen by Rangiku-san. Goodness. It wasn't like that Shuuhei Hisagi wasn't a competition big enough. He had the coolest hair, coolest uniform, and his tattoo was pure female magnet. How come _he_ didn't get the flute instead?

Miserably, he glanced down at that flute. Flash God Yoruichi's orders were not meant to be disobeyed. With a face more bitter and spiteful than anything else, he sighed and began his practice, trying hard to ignore his taichou's fumbling and rapidly falling fur. He sneezed.

* * *

"No. No way." Shunsui was firm and unwavering. "No way I am playing this." He pointed to his instrument, that magnificent golden curl, so feminine and seductive, yet so innocent and angelic sounding. He reached over a plucked a string. "Hear, you hear that? That is the song of a Goddess. I am not a Goddess." He frowned at this ridiculously elaborate harp with the detailed and well-carved visages of a pair of Greek lovers at the head. "I don't care if this is Dido and Aenas, or Orpheus and Euridice. It was extortionately beautiful. And ladylike.

"Why can't I have that?" Shunsui pouted, pointing at a smirking Nanao who was already happily whacking away at her little harpsichord, with delicate Baroque patterns on its covers and sides, so petite, like a little magical box of music. "No, I am not switching with you, Taichou." Nanao grinned mischievously at her distraught taichou. "But, I can't play this……Nanao-chan……" Shunsui began has hapless whining, but Nanao merely turned away from him and concentrated deliberately on the harpsichord. "Nanao-chan……Nanao-chan……"Shunsui sang and tugged her sleeve and massaged her shoulders and basically bothered her in any possible manner, but Nanao was more obstinate than Shunsui's Einstein on the Beach chants.

"Nanao-chan……" Shunsui slouched and returned to his harp.

"Are you really cruel enough to let me look like a woman in public?"

"From what I recall, Taichou. You loved women. Isn't it just wonderful to look like one?"

"Nanao-chan!"

Nanao smirked and left Shunsui to his perpetual ranting.

* * *

Iba had already resigned to his fate for over an hour and was beginning to find pride in being able to handle something this small and delicate. "Like a lady's soft, gentile fingers." He thought to himself, imagining that the cold metal was Rangiku-san's luring, demure finger tips, and the mouthpiece upon his lips were Rangiku's full, sexy, heart-pounding lips. His taichou was still fumbling around and there were strange rustling noises. His taichou was particularly sensitive to his size and appearance, so even attempting to assist the large canine was a question difficult to broach. Iba glanced quickly at his taichou but the evanescent noise was gone.

Then suddenly, there were loud gasping sounds and uncomfortable gulping noises that were so cacophonic, it surpised even Iba, who was used to his master's little doggie habits.

Komamura was in shock. Absolutely, thundering, symphonic shock. He hadn't expected something to happen _subito_. Hee remembered following every step on the manual. First, hold the flute in your two hands. And so he did, balancing the tiny instrument as well as he could between two flurry paws. Next, put your lips on the mouth piece and blow. Komamura couldn't see the flute from under his long, sprouting nose, but he could distinctly sense the cold metal. Then he blew. And sneezed from his own flur. There was this chaotic exchange of air and somehow, the flute had disappeared.

Uh-oh. This was one tragic overture. He was in trouble. Coughing shiftily, he called weakly out to Iba, who was curiously raising an eyebrow at him.

"Iba. The flute is gone."

"I am sorry, Taichou, I do not quite understand. What do you mean, the flute is gone."

"I mean, the flute is gone."

"Taichou……?"

"Iba, I think I swallowed the flute by accident."

Iba dropped his flute.

It quietly rolled to the edge of the door.

* * *

Shunsui, too, had resigned to his fate. Although he was still finding trouble with his instrument. He followed the very succinct manual, which tersely instructed him to place the harp as the picture had shown and to pluck the strings accordingly. So Shunsui obediently chucked the instrument between his legs and reached out to pluck the strings. Every note struck a chord in his heart that only aroused more unwillingness. He reached for the strings in the higher register.

He couldn't reach the further strings, so he brought the harp closer to him.

"Ouch!"

Shunsui glanced down at between his legs.

"This won't do at all," Shunsui shook his head, "This simply won't do at all."


	5. Gigue of Grouch

**Author's Note: **After finally recovering from that horribly long cough, I still suffer from remnants of it, but it is still tolerable until I sliced my own toe by accident. Now _that _could be a problem. When will my bad luck streak ever end?

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach

**Chronicles of the Sereitei Philharmonic**

By annyenil

"B-b-but……" An extremely nervous Yamada Hanatarou pleaded with his taichou with the most lugubrious eyes he could summon without looking spaced out. It was more difficult than he could've imagined. No way was he going to do _that_.

"Yamada Seventh Seat, this has been an assignment from the Great Shihouin Clan. Unless you can provide me with a reason cogent enough to dissuade an obdurate noble like Yoruichi-san, I am afraid you have no other options." Unohana Retsu sympathized with her little officer as much as she could. On the outside, she was appearing to be motherly and concerned, but on the inside, she was smirking to herself. _Thank goodness I am not the one Yoruichi singled out. I'd rather have the least to do with that belligerent and noisy Zaraki Kenpachi……_She nearly sniggered out loud and had to suppress herself very much. After all, she was everybody's most respected and loved taichou.

"But taichou……can't I stay here with you?"

"As much as I would love to have you here, Hanatarou-san," The maternal taichou smiled her most calming smile and placed a gentle hand on Hanatarou's arm, which twitched at the amount of clemency and love placed into it, and merely shook her head, "An arrangement is an arrangement. I'm afraid you have to go, Hanatarou-san."

Hanatarou's cheeks were blushing as he was flushed with honour and excitement at being addressed by name by his wondrous and fantastic taichou. But that elation was ephemeral. "So I still have to go, taichou?" His shoulders were sagged and his eyes revealed his uneasiness and disappointment. Unohana turned away so as not to foment any unnecessary emotions within herself that would have otherwise altered her determined decisions. "Run along now, Yamada Seventh Seat!" She spoke carefully with much ostensible felicity.

"Isane-san," She turned to her awaiting fukutaichou the moment Hanatarou exited the Division Office, "You, too, run along and prepare a Recovery Kit for Yamada Seventh Seat."

"Hai, taichou." Isane was slightly horrified at this requeast, but obeyed as she was told to do so, though she did not understand why her taichou even allowed Hanatarou to be placed in such a precarious situation. She would be surprised if Hanatarou had made it back alive.

* * *

"This is such a difficult thing for somebody who abhors ugliness. Taichou……" Ayasegawa Yumichika whined at his taichou. Zaraki Kenpachi snorted and turned away, grunting a grunt so deep sounding, it resonate with the four timpani surrounding him. "Don't complain, Yumichika. Kyouraku promised us a really god fight if we get through with this." He licked his lips and glanced at the pink head hovering over his shoulders. "Shall we get started then?"

"Ken-chan! What are those bean sprouts on the paper?"

"I am not sure……What are they, Ikkaku?"

"Why would I know something like that?"

"I think they are ugly. _Really_ ugly……" Yumichika snorted histrionically and sighed, flipping his shiny hair to the side. "Let's just get this over with." His back was already itching from the disgust those ugly things before him gave him. Why was taichou standing behind three enormous, _ugly_ drums? Why was Ikkaku sitting behind a stupid drums-set? And why was he, the most beautiful of all beauties in the world, holding a bunch of disgusting looking tambourines? Hasn't anybody noticed how out of proportion and gauche he looked with the tambourines? Hasn't anybody?

"Yay! This is fun!" Kusajishi Yachiru hopped onto the table behind an annoyed Ikkaku and began beating on his head to a rhythm, which Kenpachi and Yumichika joined, sniggering covertly. "Get off! Grrrr--off!" Ikkaku tried ways and means to pry Yachiru off his head while keeping the rhythm with his one free hand and his mouth. This was beginning to be a little……dizzy.

* * *

The entire Sereitei felt like an anachronistic cross between an Australian aboriginal tribal dance and an overheated rock concert as the Eleventh Division pounded their hearts out at the percussion section. Every person walking on the streets could feel a deep, contentious pounding beneath their feet, pulsating with their heartbeat, driving them forward into insanity.

A little less than a mile away, Yamada Hanatarou gulped as the loud rhythms became more than _fortissimo_. It sounded extremely dangerous, like as though there was a Carnival of Animals ahead or something as wanton as that. _And I though the Rite of Spring was atrocious_. Hanatarou thought to himself, reminiscing of the Stravinsky experience he had in the real world. This was, in every sense, the true primitivism. There is no doubt, there isn't anything purer than this. Pausing to take a breather, he pulled out his secret weapon – the earmuffs Rangiku-san had bought from the real world. He had borrowed them from her earlier.

Looking like he just stepped out of an accessory boutique with fluffy pink puffs encasing his ears and two magenta bunny ears dangling above his eyes, Hanatarou sighed and proceeded with his increasingly hazardous journey.

* * *

"Hi……er……excuse me?" Hanatarou ventured timidly, watching four very mad looking people pounding on their instruments. (In the case of Yachiru, Ikkaku's head, which worked very well as a bongo drum, manifesting its inner emptiness.) Nobody could hear him.

"Excuse me!" No response.

"EXCUSE ME!" No response. Hanatarou was blushing from exceeding his largest ever volume limit. It felt rather inappropriate to do something like that in the first place, and the fact that he was in the Eleventh Division simply exacerbated the situation. Well, he had no choice this time. Opening his mouth, he drew in the most amount of air he could summon and –

"EXXXXCCCUUUSSSSEEEE MMMMEEEEEEEE!"

That did it all right.

"May I help you?" Ikkaku asked in a dangerously faux-polite tone.

"I……erm……" Hanatarou had suddenly misplaced his voice.

"Little-Knife-Chan! Are you coming to play with us?" The pink haired fukutaichou hopped into Hanatarou's face.

A pink haired angel, Hanatarou thought, _Hallelujah. _It was always wise to be friendly with children.

A few hours later, the mismatched group of five had finally figured out the scores given to them, even though Yumichika had kept his eyes shut obdurately most of the time because "those squiggly things are so _ugly_!"

"So this line is for this thing here, and that for that thing……I see. We should be able to pull it off quite well." Kenpachi nodded his head authoritatively. He was beginning to find this Hanatarou quite useful. _Maybe I should keep him captive here as a servant……the Fourth Division is obsolete anyway._He smirked to himself and stared at Hanatarou, very pleased with his own ingenious plans.Hanatarou was beginning to wonder over Kenpachi's sexual orientation after receiving about a hundred of those luring glances from him. He gulped and wiped the drenching sweat on his back.

"Wait, taichou. There seems to be one missing instrument." Ikkaku glanced up from his score. "Take a look." He shoved the paper at his taichou. Yachiru leaned over and counted off her fingers. "One, two three, four, five, six, seven……"

"That is strange, Zaraki taichou. There are eight lines on the score but we were only given seven instruments." Hanatarou pointed out. "The last line is for……" he squinted closely at the smudged writing on the ancient parchment, "Bells."

"But we weren't given any bells!" Yumichika said indignantly, "See, this whole thing is stupid."

"Wait a second." Ikkaku spoke everybody's mind as they froze and their heads turned slowly to the formidable taichou.

"What?" Kenpachi glanced at them down his nose very innocently.

"Bells!" Yachiru hopped onto Kenpachi's head, "Ken-chan!"

"Don't tell me they mean those……"

Gulp.


	6. Mikrokosmos Medley

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach

**Chronicles of the Sereitei Philharmonic**

By annyenil

General Yamamoto stepped into an empty, large hall that echoes with every single one of his solemn, stately footstep. The hall had been sealed away for a long time, now refurnished and renovated. It had rows, rows and countless rows of seats lavished with a soft, elegant velvet and elaborately designed crystal lights that spoke nothing but gentility. He chuckled a little to himself, his grip on the stick in his hand tightened as perspiration coated its handle.

_So this is where the Gotei Thirteen will make a fool of itself. _He thought resignedly. He of all men in Sereitei had the most right to disavow himself from this farcical act, but how could her, the leader of the Gotei Thirteen, abandon his Great Team at a time of such urgent need? It wasn't the skills or wonders of performance, but the trust they foster with one another and the rest of Sereitei that mattered. Albeit at quite a cost.

"Old Man Yama! Have you forgotten your instrument at home?" Kyoraku Shunsui taunted with his nasty tongue and that ever self-absorbed smirk of his. His fukutaichou bowed next to him and whispered, "Taichou, the Commander General is already holding his baton." Shunsui rolled his eyes and thanked the heavens that his Old Man Yama was either in an extremely amenable mood today (highly unlikely) or was too sleepy to bother (highly likely). He watched silently as Yamamoto sat himself at the Maestro's place with a _subito_ thump that thundered throughout the hall.

Shifting slightly in his seat, he grinned at his fukutaichou, who sat primly at the piano next to him. "Isn't this great, Nanao-chan, that we get to sit next to each other?" He sang his little troubadour song which expectedly elicited nothing more than a fierce, womanly glare and a snort that said, "No, you're not flirting with me, taichou."

If Shunsui was a man to be put off by that statement or nod in acquiescence, then he wouldn't even call himself a man. However, he did stop bothering his fukutaichou, for at the moment, his best friend Ukitake Jyuushirou entered the hall, taking in the sights with much gusto and marveled at the short time it had been finished in.

"How is it going, Jyuu?" Shunsui called out from his side of the hall to the other where Jyuushirou had promptly sat himself right in the center of the hall. His two faithful fiddlers stood _marcato_ behind him with a rather facetious air of garnered seriousness. "Why don't you guys go sit over there?" Jyuushirou casually pointed out to his right. There was, for a moment, neither movement nor noise. While competition was a constant foible in both Sentarou and Kiyone, they had never disobeyed any of their taichou's orders or even requests, so it almost surprised Jyuushirou that neither of them followed his direction. "Taichou……"

Jyuushirou turned about only to find his two reliable Third Seat Officers bursting into tears. It made him flounder a little and scratched his head. "What's going on, Kiyone? Sentarou?"

Kiyone and Sentarou flew into the air, bolting out their bows at each other's neck. "It's all your fault that taichou doesn't want to sit next to me!" Sentarou shouted, his voice sounded like a thousand man reiterating the same thing in the hall. Kiyone flushed angrily and struck at him with the precious wood. "No, it's all you, Sentarou, you retard! Taichou doesn't want to sit next to _you_!"

Jyuushirou motioned for the two to stop with a slightly hortatory tone and sighed at this fatuous display of loyalty. "Sentarou, Kiyone. Go sit over there now. That's how people sit in an orchestra." "Oh." Embarrassed by their lack of knowledge and triumphant that their taichou did not despise them, Sentarou and Kiyone docilely headed for the first row of the section on the far right end. They had made an agreement that Sentarou would get to be the first violin as long as Kiyone got to serve Jyuushirou tea for the rest of the month alone. The intentions were unclear on the second account, but nobody could risk fomenting another battle of pride between the two regular contenders.

However, glances were only exchanged covertly as more shinigami arrived. Matsumoto Rangiku pranced in happily to show Shunsui her lovely, new saxophone, with Shunsui commenting that it suited her very well, until he saw that she played it sideways, the way one would usually hold a flute. "Rangiku-san, did you not follow the instructions?" Shunsui asked, suppressing his laughter at how ridiculous the sex goddess of Sereitei had looked at that moment which would have turned off thousands of man if displayed in public.

"Well, there was this little problem that if I followed the instruction, I would have to hold it out like a trombone. So I asked taichou to help me out," Rangiku flirtatiously winked at her taichou, who couldn't see her anyway behind the double bass, and stretched out her arms lazily, "And this was the solution he offered. He himself had a bit of adjustment to do……" "MATSUMOTO!" Hitsugaya Toushirou had good hearing. And was apt at hiding his emotions, which spelled nothing but relief at the tall stool provided for the double bassist. With an agile leap, he landed on the stool and grasped the instrument, glad to be hovering above the rest for once. He could now tell what kind of parting Matsumoto had in her luscious amber hair.

Suddenly, a baleful presence shrouded over his brief moment of glory above the rest as the Eleventh Division stormed in with a frightened Yamada Hanatarou hanging behind. Everybody's eyes opened wide as they watched the most powerful shinigami in Sereitei filed in one by one in the most undignified manner they had ever done in their lives.

Kurotshuchi Nemu had entered with her own trombone in one hand, while lugging behind an extremely sensual looking robot. It was not known if Mayuri had some grotesque practices with Nemu on her long, slim instrument, but her face flushed radily as all eyes in the room turned on her. "Mayuri-sama……is here." She pointed to the robot, which was holding that Shihouin collection. Sentarou and Kiyone glanced at each other with much resignation and gave up their first violin seats immediately.

"Nee-san?" Kiyone wheeled herself around to find Isane sitting behind her, also holding a violin. Unohana Retsu smiled serenely as she placed herself in the middle of the orchestra, as though repelling the boisterous din racing about her. Isane sat up, holding the violin she had been practicing for days, and suddenly felt extremely gauche as she found herself face to face with an inflamed Hitsugaya Toushirou, who was struggling to hold up the huge double bass while sitting on a high stool. "Turn away, Isane. Don't giggle." Isane admonished herself quite silently, turning her face away from the small taichou, trying not to snigger at the obvious gap between their heights.

The most imperious Kuchiki Byakuya had planned to enter the room quite regally, with all eyes on him eagerly and his each step much weighed upon. He was slightly disgruntled and offended that not a single pair of eyes was on him except that one pair glued to the back of his haori which belonged to Kuchiki Rukia. Even his own fukutaichou had escaped to his seat much earlier, holding that ridiculously obscene horn, with a body covered in tattoos and wounds inflicted by Senbonzakura.

Abarai Renji was in no mood to gaze fondly at his taichou for the moment. He was too preoccupied trying to separate two mad men waving fists at each other spitting curses rather caustically. He had long layed down his horn, carefully not tripping over Izuru Kira's clarinet while keeping another arm on the enraged Hisagi Shuuhei.

"MOVE OVER, IZURU!"

"I will NOT, Hisagi-san." Kira provoked with more resolve than he ever possessed.

"Don't make me……" Hisagi plunged at Kira, who skillfully ducked behind Renji.

"Hisagi-san, what's wrong?" Renji blocked the mad-dog Shuuhei, sensing the tension between the to men.

"Pineapple-san! Let me tell you the story!" Kusajishi Yachiru simply had to tell the wonderful story that just took place right beneath her nosy nose. "Big-Boobs is playing the saxophone. Kira-kun is playing the clarinet. Sixty-Nine-san is playing the bassoon."

Renji took a moment to process this in his slightly dense head. In fact, he took so long a moment that Rukia felt she had to interfere and proceeded to smack him on the head. "Are you retarded or something," Rukia smirked, "Hisagi-fukutaichou and Izuru-fukutaichou are _jealous_."

"Of what?" Renji scratched his head, baffled as Hisagi and Kira both blushed and curled back in their seats.

"Of Rangiku-san, you dumb-ass." Rukia sighed and wondered why he ever befriended such a hot-headed but empty-headed friend in the first place. "Because the saxophone that Rangiku is playing is either a woodwind instrument, or a brass. So she would either sit with Hisagi-san, or Kira-san……" "Then why don't we just ask her where she would like to sit?" Renji said, seeming like as though that has solved everything. "Rangiku-san!" He called out, ignoring the embarrassed whimpers from Hisagi and Kira, whose faces had already surpassed any hue of red after realizing their own facetious behaviour.

"Renji! What is is?" Rangiku pranced over chirpily, her hands on her hips, revealing very much of her frontal assets. It was no wonder that Abarai Renji was labeled as the most homosexual men in Sereitei for he never attempted to, not even thought about, the debauchery that was his fellow fukutaichou. By now Hisagi and Kira had retreated to a dark corner on the brownish velvet, being nursed by a near-deranged Hanatarou for having nosebleeds that just won't stop. Renji leaned in to Rangiku furtively.

"Rangiku-san," he said in a stage-whisper, "Would you prefer to sit with Hisagi-san or Kira?"

Rangiku put a finger to her full, juicy lips and pondered for a moment before smiling widely at Renji. "Why don't I sit with _you_?" She slipped an arm into Renji's arm and led him to their seats. In the background, Hisagi and Kira had once again turned comrades.

"Did you see that, Kira?"

"Yes, Hisagi-san. That bastard just……"

"COME BACK HERE, RENJI!" Chaos entailed that nearly resulted in a debacle at the theatre.

One by one, the shinigami headed and seated themselves. One by one, the shinigami added to their already blooming disorder. One by one, the shinigami created their foundering chamber orchestra.

One by one, the capillaries on Ise Nanao's forehead were popping.

"Good afternoon, everyone." Nanao stood up, straining herself to forbear tearing her hair out. Not a single soul in the room could hear her or make any audible acknowledgment.

"Good afternoon, EVERYONE."

"GOOD AFTERNOON EVERYONE."

"GOOOOOOOOOOOOO-" Nanao couldn't draw enough breath and had collapsed on the floor in a heap, much to Shunsui's joy as he quickly picked her up and cradled her. "Nanao-chan, Nanao-chan, Nanao-chan……" he sang and sang lullabies until Jyuushirou finally called everyone to order. At least there was still someone authoritative enough in Sereitei that could draw everyone's attention. Even if it involved a little coughing of blood.

"All right, everyone. Let us begin." Jyuushirou smiled, regaining his composure as he nodded towards the solemn conductor. "General-Commander, please."

Yamamoto stood tall and formidable, like an impervious statue.

"General-Commander?"

Shunsui shunpo-ed to the aged man's side and returned, snorting to himself. "What is it, Shunsui?" A foul-tempered Kenpachi whose mood had been further aggravated and powered by the constant pounding of drums and bells asked, rubbing his fists together menacingly.

Shunsui stood and made his equally genteel announcement, "The old fart has fallen asleep."


	7. Much AdoReMi About Nothing

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach

**Chronicles of the Sereitei Philharmonic**

By annyenil

"Erm……" Not a single shinigami in the room new what to do. What were they to do? Kiyone and Sentarou, upon Jyuushirou's orders, had dragged and dumped a deeply snoring Yamamoto and piled him into a lump at the luscious chairs. There was nothing dignified about the Commander-General as his large bottom drooped between two maroon-clad seats and the rest of his enormous form spilled exorbitantly everywhere about. The orchestra resolved to not look at the aging man in his slumber. Never been a pretty sight.

"Well, that was pretty awkward." Kyouraku Shunsui abhorred silence. He smacked his lips together and stood himself up, conveniently knocking his groin into the delicate harp before him. Nobody could find a word to mar the silence. Shunsui coughed with affectation as he covertly rubbed where it hurt. Embarrassed as it was, somebody had to initiate something, or the obdurate shinigami's nature was cogent enough to confine them in that room for the next of the century. Content with a lesser sore but still throbbing groin, Shunsui once again rose himself into the air with a renewed sense of pride and grinned at everybody. "Why don't I lead the orchestra?"

It was for once, not a matter of contention, for nobody would wish to be up facing the entire Sereitei conducting a bunch of imbeciles imitating the sounds of culling poultry. That thought alone was to put everyone off, so Shunsui's voluntariness was more than welcomed and nobody bothered to prevent him from meeting that most unfavourable fate. At least, nobody in the Gotei seemed to feel concerned for him enough to deter him from that hapless ending. Or so the masses had thought to themselves, until Nanao tugged at Shunsui at the long, flowing sleeves and shook her head very, very calmly.

That look was so common in Sereitei that it had its own name, known widely as the "Shunsui-don't-do-something-stupid" look. Shunsui furrowed his eyebrows and gazed at Nanao with the most lugubrious eyes that he copuld conjure in an instant with his unkempt face. Of course, that had absolutely no effect on Nanao, who learnt her lesson after Shunsui once paraded around Rukongai on a mission wearing Rangiku's lacey black bra on his straw hat.

"Why don't we let each Division's taichou try leading the orchestra and decide who would lead us then?" Abarai Renji, after escaping from the vicious grasps of Kira and Hisagi, voiced his opinion of ephemeral intelligence. "Wow, you have brains, Renji!" Matsumoto smacked him lightly on the back, causing Kira and Hisagi on the other side to grit their teeth so hard that they could have popped out of their mouths.

Renji's incisive comment had at least spun things into action as Kiyone and Sentarou threw their bows into the air bawling over which of them would be the one to nominate their grandiosely adulated Ukitake Taichou, who had given them an austere (but still amenable) frown that told of his wish to remain where his butt was currently comfortably sitting. "Booooo!" Omaeda blew his trumpet, his nose and the endless stream of filthy rice cracker crumbs. "How about my taichou?" A surge of murmurs swept through the garrulous crowd of younger shinigami while the older ones looked on with much idleness. "Hmm. Spicy chilli flavour." Shunsui flicked a red hot flake off his haori and pink lowery kimono with a difficult-to-conceal tinge of self-amusement in his wry voice.

Soifon stabbed Omaeda in the belly and nearly deflated him while she made her way to the front. The Sereitei Philharmonic finally had a leader. And immediately lost it.

"What could be the problem?" Shunsui glanced up curiously toward the other end of the room where there seemed to be a wooden stick frenetically floundering in the air like as though waving a white flag or struggling in drowning waters. Though it had been a casual comment, that tactless drawl of Kyouraku taichou nearly infuriated the particularly sensitive figure beneath the stick. A blushing Hitsugaya taichou had something to say, but could mutter nothing but wordless mumblings that was very anomalous of his usual composed, succinct self. Left with no other options, Toushirou had to look for his inexorable rescuer. Matsumoto Rangiku, being the responsible fukutaichou that she was, felt the need to loudly voice out her taichou's concern. "Hitsugaya Taichou can't see Soifon taichou. They are both too-" She caught her tongue in time not to utter the ultimate taboo word of 'short' and replaced it with a not much more ameliorated euphemism of "vertically defined."

With the offending of two taichous at one go, Matsumoto Rangiku had to suffer the fate of being the next conductor. But the moment she set her foot on the maestro's stand, the entire atmosphere had suddenly gone awry, very much in the direction of the Crazy Horse bars in which the music, like in a abruptly switched radio, turned from the majestic Four Seasons to the ever so sensual _bossa nova_. "Ooo-la-la, the Girl from Ipanema!" Somebody hooted with a flase French/Brazil/Italian/Mediterranean accent and both Kira and Hisagi instantly fell over their chairs in completely histrionic poses.

"Erm. Excuse me," Nanao righted her spectacles, oblivious to the coquette charm that Rangiku was unconsciously exuding, "But isn't this supposed to be a PG-rated programme to be broadcast live around the entire Sereitei?" Many of the shinigami nodded in acquiesce as Matsumoto was pulled of the stage, still baffled by what had been going on.

"Ken-chan, Ken-chan! I want to hold the stick too!" A very disturbing drone that had been ignored for the entire while could no longer be neglected as Yachiru bounced vigorously between the four tuned timpani and Ikkaku's head. The result was an interestingly tribal series of rhythm that went "Bom-Bom-Bom-Bom-Ouch!" "I want to hold the stick! I WANT TO HOLD THE STICK!" Yachiru hopped and landed comfortably into Hisagi's bassoon. Except that to exit from it would not be so comfortable. Hisagi realized that he was in a rather situation with Kenpachi looming over him as Yachiru's monotonous chanting ceased and her eyes grew large and round to the point of being grandiose. "What's the matter, Kusajishi fukutaichou?" Rukia stuck her head behind Renji's shoulders and asked curiously as the entire Sereitei Philharmonic (with the exception of the heavily snoring soutaichou) looked on with much bated suspense.

"I……" Yachiru's face seemed to be distending.

"You……" The shinigami cooed along with the little girl.

"I……"

"You……?"

"What is this? Choir Ooohs and Aaahs?" Renji snorted at everybody's strange response as reached over to remove Yachiru from the bassoon nesting in Hisagi's arms. Now, this was no innocuous bassoon. Renji's eyebrows raised even higher than his receding hairlines as he removed his hands from the flushed little fukutaichou, whose eyes kept growing rounder and rounder. "Gosh," Renji exclaimed with much bemusement, "She's stuck?" "Whaddayya mean, she's stuck?" Kenpachi reached his huge arm over and tugged the bassoon out of Hisagi's undefended arms and attempted to pluck Yachiru out of the instrument, but to no avail.

"Aha! So it wants to fight!" The belligerently insane man let out a surge of his strongest reiatsu and drew his sword against the bassoon, only to be held back by Yumichika and Ikkaku, reminding him that if he had slashed the instrument, it would injure Yachiru. More importantly, they would have to pay for it out of Division Funds, and that would mean having a lot less booze for the rest of the year. "So," Kenpachi panted, not out of fatigue from the reiatsu release, but from his rage, "are you telling me I can't fight this thing? Then what do you want me to do with it?"

"Why don't we blow her out?" Hisagi picked up the instrument with Yachiru stuck in it and instructed her gently to try pushing out with he drew the deepest, largest breath he had ever taken. His face was bloated up, his cheeks so stretched that that sixty-nine on his face appeared more like goring eyes then numerals.

He blew-blew-BLEW-BBLLLEEWWWWW!

And all she said was, "Eww."

"Why 'eww'?" Kira asked as he trampled over Hisagi who had subsequently collapsed onto the velvety floor.

"Now my feet are wet. Gross." Yachiru made a face.

Then, without warning, a flash of light appeared in the air, or perhaps it had been an action so swift that it seemed to have generated some sort of brilliance as it formed a projectile across the air towards right above Yachiru's innocent gleaming eyes. The shinigami had almost about given up on the Snail Yachiru after the eclectic attempts had failed them. And yet, so insidious, somebody tried again without effort what should have been done right at the beginning. Everyone eyed in amusement as the tiny girl shot through the air from the bassoon and caught a large red-bean-paste bun with her mouth, swallowing it whole, ignoring Yumichika's disapproving tsk-ing.

"Nii-sama!" Rukia exclaimed with ultimate and heart-felt admiration. A most regal Kuchiki Byakuya stood amongst the gabbling and foundering Sereitei Philharmonic in a stance of having just thrown an arrow or weapon into the air. He swiped the crumbs off cooling and patted his chest pocket callously, resuming his seat. Only, Rukia would not allow him.

"Let us welcome Kuchiki taichou as our newest Maestro! God save the King!" the shinigami masses cheered and hooted as an embarrassed Byakuya, who had earned his newest leading title by spinning a bean-paste bun into the air above a pink-haired pixie who had gotten trapped in a musical instrument with an obscenely large opening the size of Matsumoto Rangiku's bust. Only, he had not said what he had just thought. There was a reason for Byakuya's taciturnity.

Byakuya stood at the podium as all shinigami finally turned to attention with all their instruments ready. Finally, the Sereitei Philharmonic, after so much turmoil and ordeal, could officially begin.

Perhaps.


End file.
